Sorry for the delay in updates, my non-existent readers, but yesterday morning, I awoke with a sudden epiphany… George Washington is a zombie! Here’s what I’ve made of the situation:

Little do people realize that George Washington is still animated and among us today. He is, in fact, America’s longest-living zombie. That’s right; George Washington is still here today, as a zombie. He hides in the White House, away from the general public, and resides in the President’s Cabinet, behind the many skeletons. Whenever a new elected official happens to stumble upon his decaying soul, he simply repents by eating his brains. Explains a lot, doesn’t it?

Sorry for seemingly avoiding my blog as of recent. A lot of updates to report, but I wanted to blog about this topic:

Amelia Earhart, possibly the most famous female American pilot of history, was legally pronounced dead on my birthday (joy) in 1939, after she disappeared during a flight around the world. Naturally, people wonder what happened to her. A study appeared a bit ago, to try to answer the question. Here’s the short version, understandable to both me and some second graders:

Scientists, I guess, found a bone fragment in the part of the world where she is believed to have gone missing. Naturally, they think it’s hers. The idea is to take some really old letters Earhart sent when she was alive, and to collect saliva samples left over from it. They were supposed to compare it with the DNA of her living descendants to ensure a match, then test the bone.

The only problem is that after I heard about this, I never heard anything else. No updates, no results. I attended a lecture yesterday, conducted by someone who pretty much works with spit, so I asked her about it. We’re both stumped.

I think this is my first post of the year… It’s nearly march, huh? Oopsies.

So grammar. Can we use fragments like that?

And can we start sentences with conjunctions?

Or should I use “may” instead of “can?”

Till or ’til?

I’ve had a lot of grammar questions over the years (bless my English teachers for putting up with me), but some recent discussions (with said English teachers) have sparked up some confusion in the basics.

When a character is speaking (dialogue), rules can (may?) often be bent, but how far? In a teenage voice, it’s acceptable to say “it’s okay,” as opposed to “it is alright,” but what about made-up words? “Going to,” or “gonna/gunna?” “I don’t know,” or “dunno?”

I think I’ve been tweeting too much… There’s no way I can write an entire blog post after so many 140-character summaries of my life.

I was recently inspired to write a poem in Spanish of my own, after spending quite a while reading the works of others. This, I preformed at Open Mic Night (last Friday), dedicated to the foreign language teachers (namely one, because the other had left by then). It’s entitled “Por Qué Cerramos Nuestros Ojos,” or, “Why We Close Our Eyes.”

So Open Mic Night turned out to be a big hit. My friends and I managed to tape most of it, with many technical errors involved, and with any luck, I might have some videos up… Within the next few years…

Anyways, my poem:

Cuando cierras tus ojos

El mundo es lo que tú deseas

Y no tienes que ver la verdad.

Cuando cierro mis ojos

Estoy feliz

Y finjo que todo se queda bien.

Cuando cerramos nuestros ojos

Nos encerramos

Para que nadie más puede entrar.

El mundo nunca ha sido gran.

No pretendemos que fue.

Imaginamos lo que podía ha ser

Y lo que nunca fue.

Cuando cerramos nuestros ojos

La vida real es demasiado para suportar a veces.

Cerramos nuestros ojos para escondernos

Y para pensar.

Deseamos creer lo que es falso

Y sólo por uno momento

Cuando cerramos nuestros ojos.

When you close your eyes

The world is what you want it to be

And you don’t have to see the truth.

When I close my eyes

I am happy

And I pretend everything will stay fine.

When we close our eyes

We lock ourselves away

So no one else may come in.

The world has never been great.

We do not pretend it was.

We imagine what could have been

And what never was.

When we close our eyes

Real life is too much to bear sometimes.

We close our eyes to hide

And to think.

We want to believe what is fake

If only for a moment

When we close our eyes.

This was my second act, by the way. To start, Cali and I preformed a cover of Davedays’ parody of Feliz Navidad. Must have been interesting to see some kid sing about not knowing Spanish, then appear with original poetry in the language…

Again, very big hit.

Oh, and this year, j’ai français Un aussi, mais j’aime mieux l’espagnol. One of our first French assignments was to write an introduction of ourselves (in French, oui), so I wrote that I like Spanish, poetry, and Spanish poetry. Of course!

I have never heard anything said about pedophilia that is either positive or from a child’s perspective.

Pedophilia does not necessarily have anything to do with child abuse or molestation. That’s the same thing as associating blonde girls with the color pink. Maybe in many cases it may make sense, especially using prior knowledge, but logically, the two are unrelated.

I know adults like to think they remember everything about being a child and that they can see their mistakes, but come on! Let’s be reasonable. Children are smart. I know, shocking, right!??! Well, it’s true. Children have a great capacity for understanding. They are also less corrupt than SOME people I know, and have a much simpler time accepting the values of others and being nonjudgmental. I might go deeper into this on a later day…

What about the kid? You know, around the time of puberty, we kids like to play dumb for you adults. It just makes life so much easier! Genuine feelings for another person can form at very early ages. Face it, this isn’t the ’90’s anymore. Fourth graders date. Second graders have crushes. So what?

So in this hypothetical scenario, the adult and the kid fall for each other. The adult likes the kid because of any reason anyone else may like someone; the kid has certain personality traits, certain quirks, can relate to experiences, is mature, whatever. The kid likes the adult… why? Well, there is a certain appeal to an older person with life experience to pass on, but the same thing applies. Age probably has nothing to do with it. The adult could have an appealing personality that was unfortunately bestowed upon someone too old.

Is love bad? Of course not. Why would anyone think of ruining these perfect connections? The same applies to homosexual relations. All this is just preference: age, gender, whatever. Growing up, I was always told, “It’s what’s on the inside that matters.” In that case, aren’t these factors just shells encasing flaws or perfections? Actually, no. They’re more than that. Physical traits should be the frosting on top of the cake– it only makes good better.

Come on, really!??! If the kid isn’t uncomfortable in any way, why are you complaining? Maybe that camp counselor or teacher is crushing on your kid but hasn’t said anything. Are you okay with that? You can never know who a person is in love with. That’s the beauty of it. Love is blind. Just because you can’t see love doesn’t mean it’s not there. It’s hiding right in front of your face and there’s nothing you can do about it. 🙂 Now I’m self-satisfied.

These are my opinions and in no way reflect the opinions of readers, commenters, yadda yadda yadda. But I expect respect if you choose to comment. Otherwise, you’re blocked.

The above links are Facebook Events commemorating the six recent suicides of homosexual boys. I’ve been spending a lot of time scrolling through the comments of each event’s wall, flagging haters and commenting to open-hearted lovers.

My belief is that being homosexual is not a choice. It’s how you were born. It’s a mindset that you naturally have, whether you ever realize it or not. Imagine being tormented because of your muscle density or skin sensitivity– those are little details that make you unique, but cannot necessarily be seen with the naked eye. It’s the same thing! Why would you judge someone over something they have no control over, and instead choose to embrace? Is it a crime to be who you are?

By the way, the Bible says nothing against homosexuality. Jesus loved everyone, man or woman alike. Why would he condemn someone for loving, as well? All the claims to God’s hate of homosexuality was primarily due to interpretation or translation errors. Just look it up!

On the wall of one of the events, someone wrote this about the Bible: “It was supposed to be a guide book not a rule book!” Jesus was all-forgiving of the sins of man, wasn’t he? Shouldn’t everyone be as forgiving and open? Religion is not precise– there are many things we do not know. It’s okay to be open to your own thoughts and opinions– God won’t be angry if you embrace diversity.

Haters will be blocked from my blog.

I know there are a lot of opinions contradicting what I said, too. As I said, I believe homosexuality is a given trait, whereas others may think it’s a choice or an instilled lifestyle. I’m open to these ideas.

I read a book entitles “The Less-Dead” that deals with homosexuality and the Bible. I encourage you all to read it.

Where I live, our public schools recite the Pledge of Allegiance daily. The principal or some other authority says “Please stand” over the intercom, and students in classrooms are expected to stand and recite the Pledge to the nearest flag.

Today in math class, I did neither said a word nor stood. My teacher noticed midway through, and made a waving hand gesture as if to say, “Stand.” I shot her a look that said, “no.” She whispered to me (for I am in the front row, yay), “You don’t have a choice.” Sulking, I stood for the remainder of the recitation.

On the first day of school, this same teacher said she had respect for students who recited the Pledge, since by now, most kids think it’s a boring waste of time.

I have my rights. I shouldn’t be forced to support something I do not want to, and that includes standing and speaking. Why do I even have to stand? Have authority really become so scared of nonconformity and insubordination that they have to force me to at least LOOK like I care?

Here’s the thing: I’m not a terrorist or anything. I’m not out to kill Americans, and yes, I’m a legal citizen. It’s just that when I think of America, I think of corruption. This once-great country has strayed from what it used to be, and what it no longer has the potential to be.

Don’t get me wrong: I don’t look down on soldiers or patriots. I have a lot of respect for them, actually, for standing for what they believe in. I just feel that I should have my own say, as well, and I should be allowed to fight for it.

I know I’m not alone in my cause. Over the years, the phrase “Under God” has caused a lot of debate. The only difference is that I have a number of reasons why I refuse to say it besides the obvious religion aspect:

Religion: Yes, I am not affiliated with any religion at this time, especially not one with an omnipresent, all-powerful being. For people like me, there is no “God” for “one nation” to be “under.” Whatever happened to “separation from church and state?” I remember in elementary school, when we learned about many religions. Whenever winter rolled around, we discussed not only Christmas, but also Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, and Ramadan. Once, I was told schoolteachers either had to teach everything or nothing. They were not allowed to be bias. Well, isn’t this the same scenario? As a diverse country, we should be embracing the cultures of everyone, and not just the people who changed the words of the Pledge. That’s right, the original Pledge of Allegiance didn’t even have the words “Under God!”

Homosexuality: I know this can apply to more than just the homosexual part of America, but it’s the most obvious example. So the line “with liberty and justice for all” really gets to me. It’s a downright lie. Americans are not equal, and the government knows it. Why can’t homosexual couples marry in most states? Why can’t they adopt children? Why can’t they join the army? NORMAL people can, so why can’t they? Homosexual individuals are living and breathing, too. Why should they not be treated with liberty and justice?

Global: There are hundreds of countries of the world, each unique and busting with culture. Is it right just to pledge myself to America? Should I even be allowed to visit a foreign country, in that case? I’ve pledged my allegiance to this one country, so there’s no point in fraternizing with the enemy, right?

Legal: There is neither a rule in my school nor a law in the country stating the resuscitation of the Pledge is mandatory. It’s as simple as that.

Flag: Even if I wanted to be solely loyal to America, I don’t want to pledge my allegiance to the FLAG of it. Have you realized that? The words are “I pledge allegiance to the flag,” not “I pledge allegiance to America.” I really don’t believe I should be forced to tie myself down to an inanimate object symbolizing an idea. If someone were to point a gun to a flag, should I jump in front of it and save it?

Memorization: Even now, as I sit here and tear apart the pledge I have recited every day since kindergarten, I feel no emotional significance to it. Children memorize these words the same way they might memorize lyrics to a song or a jingle. There’s no meaning to what they are saying, it’s simply something to occupy their mouth with. I have had to repeat these phrases for so many years. I’m just sick of it! The sounds coming from the mouths of my peers are barely legible as words– they are simply mouth movements and pauses they have grown accustomed to. These words mean nothing to us. Face it, you can’t force someone to be patriotic.

It feels good to vent onto a blog. These are my ideas, and my ideas solely. What is written on this in no way represents anyone else but me, Mercy. It doesn’t matter if you want to argue with me about it, because, like I said, these are my ideas. If you want to spread your counter-opinions, feel free to create your own blog and ramble about it. Me, well, I prefer to rant to the diverse people out there who can see where I am coming from, and who embrace my being anyways.

Edit: I just realized something else after posting this. I’m in the Diversity Club. Right now, we are working on a project to spread diversity throughout the school. One of the ideas was to get every student to trace their hand and one it, write their name and ethnic background. The only problem was what to do with the hands. I suggested using red, white, and blue paper and making an American flag, but apparently, we’re not allowed to, since some people may not be American. Well, why should non-Americans have to Pledge? According to every authority I’ve talked to on the subject, everyone is “required” to honor the flag and the Pledge. So it’s wrong to use America as a symbol for diversity, but it’s fine to force people to recite it, even if it does not match with their beliefs?

I haven’t blogged in such a long time… Sorry! Thanks go out to all the strange internet people who make my views spike… XD

I can’t believe I haven’t posted this sooner! So over the summer, I wrote a poem entitled HARSH. I wrote it especially to recite at Open Mic Night, which my school’s Writing Club hosts a few times every year. It’s a little bit of a nonsense thing, but it has a good message… I think. It was inspired by my biology class…

Seven miles below the surface of the sea, in the Marianas Trench, an ordinary foraminifer is burrowed in the sand.
Millions of miles into the barren Sahara, a single eragrostis reaches for the sky, atop a common transverse dune.
Directly at 0°, 0°, a lone purple saxifrage bloom stands, contrasting against the plain, white tundra around it.
–
“They” say life can occur anywhere.
“They” say life is tough enough for anything.
I’m guessing “they” never went to high school.
–
High school, with it’s unbalanced food chain.
High school, where dog eats dog.
High school, the place I call home.
–
I don’t feel tough.
And I certainly don’t feel alive.
But I am, aren’t I?
–
Yesterday, I had a run-in with a gossip.
Today, I was caught in the airless vacuum of the hallway.
Tomorrow, I’ll probably be poisoned by toxic waste on the cafeteria trays.
–
Maybe I’ve adapted to this environment.
Maybe evolution has something to do with it.
Maybe living here is supposed to be this easy.
–
Or not.
This could all just be chance.
I’m still at the bottom of the food chain, aren’t I?
–
But what if “they” are right?
What if I’m really on top?
Does that make me alive?
–
Inhale, exhale.
Woah, how is this possible?
Am I breathing?
–
Inhale, exhale.
It works!
I must be breathing!
–
I can breathe! I can see! I can smell!
Okay, who cut the cheese?
Was it you?
–
Wait a second…
You’re breathing, too!
Are we the same?
–
You kind of look like me…
At the same time, you don’t.
What are you?
–
What kind of creatures are we?
To survive in this harsh place.
How is this possible?
–
You know what?
Maybe this isn’t so strange.
After all…
–
Seven miles below the surface of the sea, in the Marianas Trench, an ordinary foraminifer is burrowed in the sand.
Millions of miles into the barren Sahara, a single eragrostis reaches for the sky, atop a common transverse dune.
Directly at 0°, 0°, a lone purple saxifrage bloom stands, contrasting against the plain, white tundra around it.
–
They say “life” can occur anywhere.
They say “life” is tough enough for anything.
But I’ll let you decide if you’re really alive.

As an afternote, I realize I never once use the word harsh in the poem. Sorry?